


Wonder

by wonderbread



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Bat Family, Batdad, De-aging, Drama, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, He's the baby of the family now, I'm Sorry, Jason Todd is 11 years old, Jason Todd is Alive, PTSD, Resurrected Jason Todd, this poor kid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 16:59:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15890247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderbread/pseuds/wonderbread
Summary: Fleeting memories of a kid, too short and too skinny, grinning and laughing. Gave life another chance. That twinkle in his eyes said it all, really. "I'm Robin! And being Robin gives me magic." He felt that everyday was a day to do something great. Full of naivete. No one had the heart to tell him that he'll get screwed over eventually. No one ever gets out scot-free. He just kept beating his wings."I'm a hero."





	Wonder

**Author's Note:**

> Have you guys seen that movie Rabbit Hole (2010)? It's about child loss. I just decided to watch it today on a whim and, uh... well. It's sad, lol. I've been watching so many movies to pass the time. Ocean's 8 was great, btw.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Her father seemed different today.

Talia and her father are close. She knew him better than anyone. They were essentially all each other had left in this world. And while she was always with her father, lately, Talia had been feeling morose. She couldn't quell the dreadful feeling of loneliness down and it bothered her.

Her father spoke very little to her today. She wondered if she should be concerned about it, or if he was just having one his bad days. Her father wasn't always an even-tempered man. All those dips in the Lazarus Pits altered his mind, making him more wild as time went on. When he was angry, full of spite and rage, he goes all the way. Very little consoled him when he was in one of his rages. Talia tries, but it is never instant. She always has to convince her father that whatever it is he's infuriated over will be taken care of somehow, and that she will personally see to it. Talia is her father's daughter. They are too much alike, and so it makes Ra's suspicious of even her sometimes. These days, not even Talia did much to assuage his worries.

The servants were loyal to the al Ghul family, they knew their place. Ra's al Ghul was the ultimate voice of command, but they knew to never cross Talia, either. They had respect for the daughter of the Demon's Head. Talia had developed a sort of trust with her people, as she was the one who tried to get to know them to some degree. They appreciated that, she knows.

While the servants and maids were employed by her father, she was the one who actually spoke to them and oversaw their work. She was, after all, her father's second-in-command. She knew these people, their backgrounds, their families, what time they woke up, what tea they preferred, what part of the estate they frequented, who they stayed close to in the servants quarters... everything. Talia _always_ kept tabs and took notes.

Always.

However, she knew that while she had most of their trust, there will always be a bit of wariness towards her. She already disobeyed her father many times. Talia always had eyes on her.

When Ubu quietly came in the dining hall during breakfast and whispered a message into her father's ear, she took note. The way her father slowly stopped spooning food into his mouth, the way his fingers tightened around the utensil, the way he turned his head a bit closer to his servant and listened more closely... It made Talia rather curious. Ubu's brows were furrowed, looking unsure of what to do, it seemed like. Then her father set his spoon down gently onto the porcelain plate, the clacking of dinnerware quiet, and took a sip out of his glass. He promptly got up and Ubu stepped back, letting him walk past before following him out the door.

Her father had that twinkle in his eye. The one that she recognized as him plotting something, the gears in his head quickly moving. She also noticed the subtle smirk adorning his lips as he walked out.

Her father was acting different today.

And for some reason the sweetened tea she was drinking suddenly tasted bitter.

* * *

"What?" Talia whispered.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her father had called her into his study while she was doing her usual warm-ups in the garden. One of the female servants, Natasia, came in and quietly informed her that her presence was needed. It was urgent.

She sighed and told the girl to clean up her things and to put them away neatly before briskly making her way to her father. Ubu was standing outside the large doors. He looked at her up and down, gave her a nod, and opened the door. She tutted at him, the big oaf irritated her to no end.

When she was told to have a seat on the other side of the room, she knew her father was about to present her with some amazing news. Good or bad, she wasn't sure. She sat down with her arms crossed, and saw the manila folder on the glass coffee table in front of her. She wasn't sure to open it. Ra's was on the other side of the large study, behind his desk with his hands folded in front of his ace, observing her. Once she took note of the folder, that was when he told her everything. And she wasn't sure of what to believe at the moment. She let her father's words fill the room, listening intently for any signs of fabrication. She wasn't sure how much time had passed.

"I am not feeding you lies, Talia. I am rather... amazed myself."

"... _What?_ " she repeated under her breath.

Ra's gestured to the folder. "Take a look. I have all the proof you need."

Talia narrowed her eyes at him. Then she stared at the folder for a few seconds before carefully picking it up. It was quite heavy. She set it on her lap and opened it. The first thing she laid her eyes on was a picture of a young boy. The boy was dressed in a tattered red hoodie that was stained with threads hanging loose from the sleeves. The shoes and jeans he was wearing were a bit too big for him, and they too looked worn and dirty. He was sitting in an alleyway under a cardboard box, his legs splayed out before him.

She looked at it closer. The boy had black hair, a bit matted with dirt and sweat. It was a bit too long, but thankfully his hair wasn't covering his face. His eyelids looked heavy but he was awake. The boy, this skinny child, had bright blue eyes.

Talia recognized those striking blue eyes.

She gasped and looked at her father.

"I don't understand... how is Batman not aware of this?"

"We checked the cemetary. Knowing the detective, he would have made measures to be notified if anyone ever tried to break into the coffin," he took a sip of his tea, "... not if somebody came _out_."

A pause. "How? Was this your doing?"

"No. I assure you. I did nothing to the boy."

"Then, how?" she repeated, "This is impossible. It doesn't make any sense. He's been dead for years."

"We do not know. I have been keeping track of this for the past two weeks. There was a rumor that a rogue Robin was roaming the streets of Gotham. One of our men stationed in the city heard some hooligans gossip after being chased out a derelict building. They were saying a young boy with Robin's skill-set was going around attacking criminals."

"And this caught your attention?" Talia glared. "Did you think it was Damian?" she hissed.

Ra's smirked. "I cannot lie. I was hoping the boy had finally run off and cut ties with his father. It would have been the perfect chance to corner him and bring him home to us."

" _Father._ "

"Talia."

It was silent for a moment as they stared directly into each other's eyes. She could feel her blood boil. Acting out and resorting to yell at her father would just lead to that fool waiting outside the door to come in and 'relieve' the situation. Which meant he would either be ordered to escort her out the door until she made it to her quarters, or he would lay his hands on her. She wasn't scared of him. Oh, no. If he dared touch her, she'd make moves to kill him. She was more worried that if either of those things happened, this discussion would be cut short and her questions would be left unanswered. Her father will surely make plans without her.

She thought of Damian. 

Her son lives far away from where his mother was staying. Damian stays in Gotham with his father, her beloved, and seldom contacts her. Every once in a while, she'd send him emails, letters, postcards, and text messages to let him know that she was still alive and well, but she wasn't sure he cared all that much. Sometimes she'd tell him her current location just in case if anything dire happened and he needed to see her. He never answers back. As brutal, cold, and calculating she may seem... the woman did have a soft spot for children. Especially her own flesh and blood. Her _progeny_ she valued more than anything. She knows she hurt her son, many times, too much to ever be truly forgiven.

She _never_ calls for fear of her son hearing the shame and weariness in her voice. The moment her son picks up her call is the moment she chokes back a sob and cries into the receiver, wanting to choke out all her apologies and grievances. She knows, however, it'd be fruitless and she'd be left embarrassed. To hear his voice again, to hear him call her 'mother' was something she wanted so badly. Her baby has grown up. His thirteenth birthday just passed. It was around this age that teenage boys grew much taller, their voices crack, their facial features change, their attitudes shift. Boys becoming men. When he had departed from her, the boy was only ten. He was so small, baby-faced, and delightedly childish. He must be quite big now. Probably looks even more like his father.

The thought of her boy, strong as he is, being whisked away by her father's henchmen made her seethe. She knows that with all the training he's received he could fight them off and survive. With Batman, nothing would happen to him. Batman and Robin fought well together, they would have given the ninja a hard time. Damian alone, however... he'd fight them off but they would just keep coming until he couldn't go any longer. The ninja would know his weaknesses, corner him, and snatch him away with no one noticing. Except for Batman. He always notices. But it would have been too late.

"If anything happens to him," Talia gave Ra's a rather menacing glare, "I _will_ know."

"Hn. I'm sure you'd be made aware." Ra's got up from his seat behind his desk and walked towards where his daughter was sitting, stopping right in front of her. "I'm much more interested in this right now." He jutted his chin towards the folder in her lap and crossed his arms.

Talia looked down at the photographs of the young boy and sighed. She sifted through a few written reports and stumbled upon a copy of his death certificate.

_So young... so small..._

"What are you planning?"

He gave her a rather untrustworthy smile. "I want him brought to me."

* * *

A month and a half had passed since that day in her father's study.

Talia was now sitting in an apartment in Serbia, nursing a cup of freshly brewed tea. She focused on the clacking against porcelain and the rustling of clothes as she stared down at the amber liquid cradled between her hands. The smell of toast and butter filled the room.

She slowly looked up to focus on the person in front of her. The boy was ferociously wolfing down large bites of buttered toast, making a mess that Talia sighed at. There'd be a pile of it for her to clean up later. He had already eaten two pieces of toast and was working on his third. Bread, eggs, milk, water, mashed potatoes, lukewarm soups, some fruits, crackers, and ice cream was all this boy ever ate. Anything too difficult to chew or digest was never served for fear that he might choke.

Well, at least it was something, even if she did have to feed him some those ghastly instant foods. He liked them, from what she could tell. Ever since she took Jason out of Gotham, he had gained some weight. He was still a little on the thin side, but he looked better than he did before. He was cleaner, slept in a warm bed, and ate until he couldn't anymore. So much better than what he had to endure out in dank, smelly alleyways.

His blue eyes never strayed from his plate. His bangs curtained over his eyes, making it difficult for her to see his whole face. Even without looking, however, Talia knew where his gaze laid. He was always either looking down or staring straight ahead. He never looks at her directly in the eye.

Always through her.

"Jason."

He paused a little and started chewing more slowly now. Talia recognized this as him listening. Her eyes focused on the tan crumbs stuck to his grey sweatshirt.

"Jason. Remember what I told you last night? After breakfast we are going on a trip."

He said nothing. He never speaks. She didn't expect him to. Instead, he just kept munching on the bread she prepared for him this morning.

"Eat as much as you can. You will change out of those clothes and into something warmer. Then we will go."

Talia drained the rest of her tea from her cup and got up to wash it. She rinsed the cup under cold water, and turned her head to back at Jason at the table. "Please drink your milk, darling."

Talia stared out the window as she dried the teacup. Ever since that talk with her father about discovering a somehow reanimated Jason Todd, he sent her to fetch him with a group of his men. She was told to come back so they could examine Jason and uncover the secret as to how he came back from the dead. They tried everything. They consulted magic users, clairvoyants, mind readers... nothing. These were all people they trusted in skill and loyalty. They couldn't come up with anything conclusive. He was given to some of the most talented medical officials they knew. Again, nothing new. He was in a vegetative state and they had no idea why. He'd react to things in his own way. Little sighs here and there, blinking of the eyes, twitching of the hands, he'd even turn his head towards you sometimes if you were speaking to him. He never spoke and seldom made noise. He was catatonic. Stuck in a stupor. Unresponsive. He was like a ghost.

It did something to her to see him this way. Jason was fifteen when he died. Fifteen. That's only two years older than Damian is now. This young boy was left without a home, skulking the streets of Gotham by himself. His father had no idea. He was a boy without his family.

A few weeks after they retrieved him, Talia ran away. She took Jason with her, left Russia, and relocated to Serbia. Here, she would have time to think about her next possible course of action. It was very clear that Jason might never recover. They tried _everything_.

They all said he was a lost cause. Whatever happened to him, whoever did this to him... they didn't want this boy to live a fulfilling and happy life. They damned him to a life of sorrow and heartache.

So, Talia made a decision. She might regret doing this, she might regret saving him at all if things went wrong. But it was the only option she had left. Her father was going to kill Jason Todd and let him die a second time. He was of no use to him, he said. The boy was a waste of time. She disagreed. She couldn't let it happen.

She wanted to do this for her beloved—for Jason.

She was going to use the Lazarus Pit.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I mess with canon a bit here concerning the Lazarus Pit. I think...? The reboot/rebirth/new52/convergence stuff is so muddled and convoluted these days, I'm not even sure anymore. My knowledge comes from the main continuity, pre-reboot(s). All the key things, at least. I changed something about it, bear with me, lmao.
> 
> Hopefully, I stick with this one. I took a break from comics for a bit, and now I'm getting back into it. This probably sucks. Sorry, lol. I might go back later (don't know when) to edit some things.
> 
> I love Jason Todd.


End file.
